


to the beat of the drums

by telematic (smallestbrown)



Series: Strangetown [2]
Category: Sims 2 (DS), The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallestbrown/pseuds/telematic
Summary: Ara's favorite thing about the dancefloor was when Claire Simmons came by. And this time, Claire gives her special attention.





	to the beat of the drums

Ara’s second favorite thing about the dance floor at Mama’s place was the jukebox. She couldn’t tell which era it was supposed to be from; a boxy, metallic affair with blinking green buttons and a satellite dish, it spewed all sorts of music, from 80s techno to hard rock, all the while surrounded by the run-down western menagerie of the bar. Strangetown was characteristically eclectic, and Ara Fusilli kind of liked it that way.

Her favorite thing about the dancefloor, however, was when Claire Simmons came by. Today was no exception: blond hair down in waves and brushing her collar-bone, a blue, off-shoulder crop top and black booty shorts, Claire was a vision of swaying hips and exposed skin. Ara hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off her all night.

She started moving through the crowd – unusually large for Strangetown, but there had been some kind of book signing for Kent Hackett, and the trailblazers had chosen Mama’s as the spot to unwind for the night. Someone bumped into her, and she lost sight of Claire. Ara glanced around, almost desperately, and suddenly felt someone’s hand on the small of her back.

She turned quickly, and found Claire staring at her, a teasing smile on her plump, pink lips. “Hey there,” she said, and Ara’s throat felt dry. “Do you want to dance?”

Ara nodded.

She felt the warm heat of Claire’s hands on her hips, pressing gently on the exposed skin between her green tank top and her jean shorts. Ara’s own arms came to circle Claire’s neck loosely, trying to appear nonchalant despite the beating in her chest. Bodies curving against one another, they moved closer to each other unconsciously until they were connected at almost every inch, undulating in time with the music thumping in their ears.

She didn’t think she’d met a woman like Claire before. Plenty of girls, back in college last year, and even more guys, who, when blessed with a few drinks from the campus bar, thought that banging Frankie Fusilli’s daughter wouldn’t be as risky as it was. Touches were sloppy, hot, and inexperienced. Hands fumbled with belt buckles. Thrusts were fast and frantic, and it always happened as quietly as possible from inside someone’s dorm room.

Claire was nothing like that. Ara looked up at her through smoky eyelashes, watched the other woman bite her lip. She sensed Claire’s hands moving, her body shifting, turning, and then Claire was behind her: hands still glued to her hips, squeezing, grinding against Ara’s ass. 

The girl didn’t waste time matching her movements. She pressed back with fervor, hot breath on her skin. Arms raised, she let herself feel the music: the thump of the jukebox, the thrall of bodies around them, the hard press of Claire’s legs, Claire’s sweat, Claire’s lips sucking on her neck. The throbbing between her legs matched their rhythm, and when she felt the woman’s teeth flashing on her ear, she took Claire’s hands from her hips and lead them off the dance floor without looking back.

When they entered the back hallway, Claire’s hand slipped from her grip. “Sorry,” she said. “Was that too far?”

“No.” Ara turned a doorknob and led them inside. “Not far enough.”

They were in Mama Hogg’s bedroom: a gaudy, mid-sized space with zebra-print fabrics on every surface, vanity lights, and folding screen tucked in the corner. The place smelled of cigarettes and thick perfume. Ara stood near the bed, her hands on her hips, watching Claire close the door delicately behind her. For a moment, she looked around the room, uncertain. But her eyes landed on Ara, still flushed and sweaty from the dance floor; they eyed each other across the room, eyes searching. Claire’s gaze was hot on her skin, and Ara’s heart fluttered.

“Not far enough, huh?” said Claire after a moment, walking slowly towards her.

Ara smirked. “I mean, dancing’s fun and all. But I can think of a couple other ways that I’d rather spend my night.” 

When Claire got close, she tipped her head and bit her lip – a move her friends had once called “The Ignition” in college. All she had to do was turn the key.

“Especially with someone like you.”

Claire grinned, a good six inches taller than Ara. Her hand came up to Ara’s shoulder, leaning in, lips tantalizingly close. Ara’s heart beat wildly in her chest. 

“Just someone like me?” Claire whispered, teasing.

“No, no,” said Ara, rushing. Her hands circled Claire’s waist, keeping her close. “Just you.”

Her lips followed Claire’s as they caved in to each other. “Just… you.”

Claire’s lips were soft and cherry-flavored: a taste Ara instantly craved, but Claire kept their pace slow. Ara hooked her thumbs casually through the belt loops of Claire’s shorts, let her palms circle and caress her ass. The hotel manager’s hand came to cup Ara’s cheek; tenderness, and then want, filled her as she felt Claire’s other hand brush up against her skin and the edges of her tank top. 

She opened her mouth as if in confirmation, letting her tongue’s movements guide their growing pulse. Yearning for more, she licked inside Claire’s mouth. Ara noticed herself unconsciously thrusting with each squeeze on Claire’s ass, the heat between her thighs itching for contact. She felt electric, and desperate.

Almost as if in response, Claire stepped forward, and in only a few moments Ara was knocking back on the headboard of Mama’s bed. She pulled in a breath, watching the hotel manager crawl towards her. Claire’s lips skirted the visible skin between Ara’s legs and stomach, tantalizingly close, sucking soft kisses that made Ara’s breath flutter. Claire’s hands moved in circles on her bare thighs, and Ara relished every inch that where they touched.

Ara hiked up her knees and spread her legs wider. Again Claire moved up on the bed, sitting with her knees apart so that Ara’s thighs were over hers, their cunts almost touching, separated only by meaningless fabric. The thought alone sent shivers up Ara’s spine. Claire leaned over her, one hand running up her ribs as the other unbuttoned her shorts. Ara felt wide open in front of her, body already pulsing.

“I want to fuck you,” Ara said, in between breathless kisses.

Claire almost laughed. “I think I’ve got dibs on that one, babe,” she said, “but if you want, you’ll have your turn.” She slid her hand under Ara’s underwear and pressed a finger against her clit, dragging it up and down in a slow, languid motion. Ara moaned into her movements.

“No, I want…” She found she was panting as her partner’s hands continued to skate along her sensitive skin. “I want us to come together. I want this to be something.”

Claire stopped her ministrations, and sat up to look at Ara. The lack of pressure between her legs left Ara feeling bare, her chest heaving. She watched Claire’s eyes rove over her, taking her in: smoky eyeshadowed gaze, hands tangled in her long, disheveled brown hair, panties peaking out of unbuttoned shorts. When their eyes met again, Ara saw something there besides heat and lust.

Excitement.

In a flash, Claire had flipped herself around, pulling Ara’s legs straight on the bed so that she was straddling them in reverse. She inched backwards, kneeling but her body upright as she glanced over her shoulder. Ara was almost frozen in place, captivated by Claire’s barely-covered ass in front of her.

“I’m in,” said Claire.

It felt like time stopped as Ara watched Claire unzip her shorts and slide them down to her knees. Her slender fingers hooked into her underwear, and Ara felt Claire watching her reaction as she slid them down too in one tantalizing movement. 

Instinctively, Ara reached out to grope her ass, gratified to feel Claire swaying with her movements. One hand snuck around her waist to slide between her legs. Ara moaned to feel Claire’s wetness, swiping up and down her clit. 

“Eager, are we?” asked Clarke, slightly breathless. After a few moments, seemingly returning to her task, Claire moved backwards again on the bed, until her knees were spread wide around Ara’s head, cunt directly above her face. 

“We haven’t even started yet,” she said, her voice low and husky as she lowered herself onto Ara’s body and lined herself up, bracketing her arms around Ara’s hips. 

Ara’s heart was pounding wildly. She gasped with the first swipe of Claire’s tongue, her sharp intake of breath bringing her face closer to Claire’s entrance. She could smell the arousal dripping from her, thrilling and intoxicating. Ara moved her hands to Claire’s thighs, pushing herself up slightly on her elbows to lick inside her. She felt the other woman’s body shake on top of hers, felt the stutter in Claire’s movements on her own pussy. The beat of the dancefloor just outside the room was still noticeable, a loud, pounding drum that, in gaining speed and confidence, her movements began to match. 

She moved in again, this time striping down her clit in one long, tantalizing stroke, hoping to draw it out. She quickly realized that Claire was of another mind; her tongue pressed hard and fast, circling and sucking. Ara felt the tension beginning to build, the sweet headiness of black and white starting to crowd her.

Ara drew herself up another time, but her body spasmed with delight as Claire slid a finger inside her. Her head hit the headboard again, spine rocked with pleasure at the addition. She slapped Claire’s ass in retaliation. “Who’s the eager one now?”

Claire’s response was to stifle a moan inside Ara’s thigh, and Ara, seizing the opportunity, licked into her once more with another slap to her backside. Claire’s hips jutted forward, thrusting into Ara’s tongue as she continued to alternatively knead and berate her ass. The feeling was exhilarating. Claire was no longer occupied with pleasuring Ara’s body, but hearing the other woman try to hide her groans, tasting her as she soaked herself, Ara thought she might come without any of her help. 

But that wasn’t the goal.

“Come on,” said Ara, easing up to let Claire breathe. She could feel the legs around her face shaking with need, dripping with it. “Together.”

Claire pressed a kiss to her thigh, making her way back to Ara’s cunt, and suddenly both her tongue and two fingers were at work inside her. Hard, heavy thrusts, pushing deep inside her. Ara moaned into Claire’s clit, sucking in a breath that made the other woman shudder. They worked in tandem, now, not competing. Pushing each other harder, faster, all the way to the edge. 

“Babe,” said Claire, and Ara’s head swam with the use of the intimate nickname, “Babe, I’m so close. I’m—I’m so—”

“Me too,” Ara replied. She felt Claire push into her hard with her fingers, and cursed at the swell of feeling deep in her stomach. “Fuck, me too. Just a bit—”

Ara nosed up into Claire’s pussy, overwhelmed by the smell of her, and her tongue sucked and swirled until she heard Claire cry out, felt her come on her tongue. Claire’s thighs shook on her, and Ara found she wasn’t far behind. As Claire’s fingers crooked inside her she joined her in the throws of ecstasy, shaking as she pushed herself through it, soaking Mama’s sheets.

After a moment, Claire rolled off of her. Ara’s gaze roved over her, still wearing her blue crop top but otherwise undressed. She licked her slips before speaking.

“That was…”

“Incredible,” said Claire. Her hand came up to rub Ara’s leg, a soothing gesture. “You’re amazing, babe.”

Ara smiled. There was a strange feeling in her chest, warm and pleasant but wholly unfamiliar. Ara crawled over to Claire on the bed and kissed her, soft and tender, the way they’d began. The music still thumped through the wooden walls, and the starchy, animal-print sheets were rough on her bare skin, but for a moment, Ara wasn’t in Mama Hogg bedroom anymore. She wasn’t a mob boss’ daughter, wasn’t a futureless twenty-year-old in a dead-end town. She was simply here, making over with Claire Simmons, and she didn’t need to be anything else.

And on Claire’s lips, she tasted possibility.


End file.
